


The Other Side

by Claire



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M, Female!Stephen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-08
Updated: 2009-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on," she says, getting to her feet, "I think we could both do with a drink."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the following prompt in comment_fic: Primeval, Nick/girl!Stephen, the other side of the anomaly.

She finally snaps at Nick when she sees him staring at her for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Oh, for god's sake, Nick, just stop!"

Nick flushes at her words, partly at Lester's amused smirk and partly at being caught looking. It's just that he can't wrap his head around it. When he'd gone through the anomaly, he'd left Connor and Abby on the other side and come back to-- to--

She scrubs a hand over her face before looking at him. "Come on," she says, getting to her feet, "I think we could both do with a drink."

*

She doesn't ask what he wants from the bar, just comes back with two pints of Fosters. And Nick glad at least some things haven't changed.

"So--"

"You're dead," Nick blurts out, and it's only her reflexes that keep one of the pints from ending up in Nick's lap.

"So, not the tits thing that's freaking you out, then?" she says, soft in a way he's not heard from Stephen in too long.

"That too," Nick admits, causing a huff of laughter.

There's silence for a few moments, hands wrapped around cold pint glasses, before, "How?"

Nick looks up sharply, her gaze meeting his. "Do you really want--" The words trail off, because she may look different, but he has little doubt the curiosity is still there. "What am I saying? Of _course_ you want to know."

She smirks. "Not so different, then."

"You stepped into a room of creatures." He looks away, unable to see the blue he still dreams about, washed away in a sea of red. "The door wouldn't close and you stepped in and I couldn't stop you."

Her hand rests on top of his, the same silver ring Stephen had bought in Marrakesh on her thumb, even if it is in a smaller size.

"Nick, look at me."

And he does. Meets her eyes even if he doesn't know what he's going to find there.

"Whatever decision he made, he made it because the alternative was unthinkable," she says. "In those circumstances, I'd have made the same choice."

Because you _are_ the same, he doesn't say. Because she's _him_. Even if she's a total stranger. Her thumb is running over his wrist and he still has the sense memory of Stephen's touch.

"I lost you," Nick says, forcing the words past the dryness that's taken up residence in his throat, that's been there since he stepped through a break in time and looked into blue eyes he never thought he'd see again. "I lost you and I don't know how to do this."

"How about we do it from the beginning," she suggests, pulling her hand back from his and holding it out. "Pleased to meet you, Nick Cutter; I'm Stephanie Hart."

Nick looks at her hand, smaller than Stephen's, but with the same calluses, the same scar across her index finger from the dig in Ecuador. He looks at her hand and carefully, deliberately, reaches out to take it.


End file.
